My Pop used to say that you never really miss anyone or anything until they’re gone. I guess that’s what hit me the most after several days on my own.
I decided to make for Saint Augustine, a small town over on the coast, taking with me as many supplies as I could. My hunting rifle and plenty of ammo were top of the list. I remembered what happened when Katrina hit and all those news pictures on TV showing the looters and such. I could do without any of that – that’s if there was anyone else around.
I picked up a few small tools and then the biggest backpack I could find in the store. I figured water and tin food I could get along the way. After stuffing the pack full, I settled down for the night, still trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
In my heart, I knew Hank wouldn’t be in Orlando. Bigger and stronger than me, he’d do the same as me if he was alive – head for the coast. I planned on getting a small cruiser, not that I ever had one, but I was good with engines and reckoned I could handle the boat as long as I stayed near the coast. Miami was the best place to head. Mind you, Miami was a long way to go. That’s where people would be if there were any left alive though. I was beginning to think like a survivor, I suppose. I had to look after myself.
“Hey, Mister.”
It was getting dark, and I was real tired. My head was playing tricks with me.
“Hey, Mister.”
I sat bolt upright. It was a kid’s voice. I waited.
“Hey, Mister, I seen ya. Can I sleep with you?”
The kid sounded real sad, but I wasn’t gonna get caught with my pants down, so to speak.
I picked up my rifle. “Over here, kid. Take it easy. I got a gun.”
Tin cans and packets of whatever fell or rolled noisily as the kid approached me. He appeared from around a freezer and stood looking at me.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Benjamin.” He stared at me and the rifle wide-eyed for some time. “I don’t have a gun, Mister, honest.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Meeting someone I could talk to was like receiving a birthday present.
He came over and sat next to me, and I judged him around nine or ten. Long streaky hair ran down his back, and a Cardinals T-shirt covered the top of a worn pair of jeans.
“Well, Benjamin, my name is Ray.”
“So where you headed, Ray? Can I come along?”
“Sure, why not. I wanna get a boat at Saint Augustine and head south – see what I can find.”
“We might be safe from them there,” he murmured.
“Safe – from who? What happened?”
Benjamin was leaning against my shoulder, fast asleep.
Comments